


In the Dark of the Night

by reginahalliwell



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Gay Patrick, Cockblocking Ray Butani, Coming Out, Episode: s03e11 Stop Saying Lice!, Happy Anniversary David and Patrick, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, Nighttime Confessions, Nine Step Skin Care Routine, Only One Bed, POV David Rose, Past Patrick/Rachel, Patrick Brewer is Gay, Stevie Budd is a Troll, long conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginahalliwell/pseuds/reginahalliwell
Summary: Another version of that fic where instead of staying with Stevie, David actually takes up Patrick's offer during "Stop Saying Lice!"
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 34
Kudos: 177





	In the Dark of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> What if Patrick and David were both a little surer and braver? And Stevie was even more of a troll than usual? Just my version of the tried and true Stop Saying Lice AU :D 
> 
> In honor of David and Patrick's anniversary!

“No, I definitely didn’t,” Stevie insisted, countering David’s claim that she had invited him to stay over tonight as a lice-prevention measure

“Oh, so you _do_ need a place to stay, then?” Patrick asked, the tone of his voice something like nervous hope.

David’s expression was inscrutable as he made eye contact with Stevie, pleading with her non-verbally to change her mind. She grinned, prepared to die on this hill. “Sorry, David, it looks like you’ll have to bunk with Patrick tonight,” she said, tsking.

David’s eyes widened at her. He couldn’t believe this betrayal. And Patrick, he barely knew the man. I mean, he knew him. He was starting a business with him. But they weren’t _friends_. They didn’t _hang out_. They didn’t socialize outside of Rose Apothecary. And yet now he was going to spend the night at Patrick’s home? Which was… God knows where.

A knot inside David’s abdomen formed at the nugget of truth resting just beneath that layer of his consciousness. The reason he didn’t want to spend the night at Patrick’s was there, unspoken. Unacknowledged.

He supposed it was worth it if it meant getting away from the lice Alexis was likely infecting the entire motel room with. He would have to cope. And he could deal with those _feelings_ that he definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge, for this one night. He would just, go to sleep on the couch or in the spare bedroom or wherever Patrick had room, and when he got up in the morning, he would thank his new business partner and everything would be totally and completely normal.

“Um, yeah. Yes. Thank you, Patrick. That’s very kind of you.” David swallowed, wary of the saccharine smile on Stevie’s face as she agreed and thanked Patrick for taking one for the team.

This was all going to be fine.

~

Nothing about this was fine.

Patrick asked if David needed to pick anything up at the motel, but of course, he had already packed his nine-step skincare routine, hair care, pajamas, and a change of clothes for the following day in his ubiquitous black bag, though he had anticipated staying with Stevie, and this was quite the unexpected change of plans. So they drove in Patrick’s car, and David was optimistic about getting through this whole experience without making a fool of himself or Patrick.

Until Patrick pulled up outside Ray’s house.

“Wait.” David stalled as he took in what was happening. He had come here before, for his first meeting with Patrick about filing his incorporation paperwork, but at that point he had only assumed Patrick _worked_ there. This made it seem like Patrick also _lived_ with Ray. Which couldn’t be right. “You… you don’t live with Ray,” he said, not framing it like a question because he hoped to God it was a factual statement.

“Um, did I not mention that?” Patrick asked, looking a bit sheepish as a blush crept up his neck to his temples.

“You _really_ didn’t,” David answered, looking with horror at the many signs advertising Ray’s multiple business outside his place of employment and, apparently, his boarding house.

“Sorry,” Patrick said, wincing. “I, um, I wasn’t sure how long I was going to stay in Schitt’s Creek when I moved here, so Ray rented me a room and signed me on as his business consultant. It’s not ideal, I know, but—”

“Rented you _a room_?” David gasped. _A single room_?

“Um, yeah. You’re free to stay on the couch downstairs if you want, but it’s a queen-sized bed, so I figured…” he broke off, seeing the look in David’s eyes. He couldn’t quite place the emotion peeking out from them.

David took a moment to consider, thinking about being woken up by Ray’s face in the middle of the night if he came down for a midnight snack. He was used to sleeping in a twin bed now, so he could make do with a tiny bit of space at the edge of a queen if need be, right? Surely Patrick wasn’t one of those people who slept like a starfish, taking up the entire bed. He seemed like the kind of person who slept very still, didn’t take up much space, didn’t hog the covers… and now David was thinking about sleeping with Patrick, which. Okay, yes, that was happening, apparently. But David’s mind was going off the deep end, and he needed to stay in the shallows if he was going to survive this night.

“Uh, okay. Yeah, that sounds, that’s fine,” David agreed, smiling slightly at Patrick, trying to be polite for the kindness he was doing him. Then again, if Stevie hadn’t reneged on her offer out of some sadistic desire to see David squirm, he wouldn’t even be in this situation.

“Are you sure?” Patrick asked. “I kind of feel like I misled you, so I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, it’s alright,” David brushed him off, stepping out of the car with a confidence he definitely didn’t feel. “We all know I’ve slept in worse places than Ray’s house,” he joked.

“Um, sure. Right,” Patrick agreed, grimacing like he didn’t really want to know if David simply meant the motel or if there was a story there he wouldn’t enjoy hearing. “Well, come on in. I’m sure Ray’s made something great for dinner. He’s actually a really good cook,” Patrick observed.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” David exclaimed, rushing forward towards the promise of delicious home cooking.

Patrick laughed, following behind him.

~

Ray had indeed made a delicious pasta primavera for dinner, and thankfully had kept his comments to himself about Patrick’s guest. Patrick watched David devour the bowl of carbs as Ray prattled on about what he was offering in terms of closet reorganization.

“Do you have any need for closet reorganization, David?” Ray asked, pushing his new business.

“Um, thanks,” David said, “I have a pretty great arrangement as it is, though,” he declined.

“Where _do_ you keep all your clothes?” Patrick asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear the same sweater twice.”

David laughed a bit condescendingly. “Ok, well, you’ve only known me for a couple of months so, of course you haven’t seen me wear the same sweater twice.”

“How many clothes do you have, exactly?” Patrick asked, a little concerned this might be a job too big even for enthusiastic Ray.

“An appropriate amount,” David said, examining his manicure. “And, as I said, it’s already well-organized and stored in a climate control situation that requires no further attention, so. Thank you, but no.”

Ray nodded in acceptance, even as he said, “Well, you’ll have to let me know if your circumstances change and you require some organizational guidance.” He pulled out a business card from nowhere and passed it across the pasta dish to David, who now had business cards from Ray for closet organization, photography, real estate, and travel. Plus Patrick’s business card, of course.

“Um, sure, thanks,” David said as he accepted the card.

“Are you all done with your meal, David? I’ve made brownies for dessert,” Ray announced as he stood up to cut the cooling brownies.

“Umm, yes, I think I can make some room for brownies,” David agreed begrudgingly, as Patrick hid a grin behind his hand. He didn’t know David Rose that well yet, but he was already learning how much of a sweet tooth the man had, if his very specific coffee drink with extra sweeteners was any indication.

When the brownies were eaten, Ray suggested a movie, and although David was thrilled to find out there was another person in town who appreciated Sandra Bullock as much as he did, Patrick offered a quick “no” and shuffled up the stairs, with David offering an apologetic shrug as he followed behind him.

“Goodnight, Ray,” Patrick called down the stairs pointedly, hoping this was an explicit-enough indication that Ray should not disturb them for the rest of the evening.

“Goodnight, Patrick,” Ray replied cheerily as he finished putting away the rest of the brownies.

“Sorry about that,” Patrick explained as they walked down the hallway. “I’m sure _Miss Congeniality_ would have been fun, but—”

“No, I mean, yes, it’s a fantastic movie, but I’m pretty tired from all the—” he gestured vaguely to his head, meaning the lice craziness.

“I figured. Um, so fair warning, the room was like this when I arrived,” he said, opening the door to the most heinous décor David had ever seen.

“Oh my God,” David announced, thankful that Patrick had warned him. The place was the epitome of poor taste, a shock of outdated florals, mixed patters, and the drabbest colors and fabrics David could imagine. “Ray should not expand his businesses to include interior decorating,” he said.

“Yeah, he really needs to stick with what he knows,” Patrick agreed. “I’m not actually sure if this was his doing, but I haven’t done anything to it because I didn’t exactly bring a ton of stuff with me, and like I said, I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be staying in Schitt’s Creek.”

David shot him a look. “Well, you’re staying now, right? I mean, you did decide to invest in my business, so here I am hoping you’re not going to up and leave.”

“No, no, of course not. I’m, yeah, I’m here to stay now. For sure.” David breathed a sigh of relief as Patrick confirmed he wasn’t planning to abandon him—no, abandon Rose Apothecary—any time soon.

“Great, well, we’re going to need to find you a better place to live, then. Because this whole—” he gestured to the entire room, “situation really doesn’t go with the sand and stone minimalist aesthetic I’m curating.”

“Well, lucky for you, I wasn’t planning on opening up a second location in my bedroom,” Patrick countered, offering him a playful smile.

“Right. You just keep on living in this nightmare, then. If you wake up in an 80s horror film, don’t call me to save you.” David set down his bag on a rocking chair in the corner, examining every corner of the room and only finding more fault with it as he went.

“Anyway. Would you like the bathroom first?” Patrick asked.

“No, you go ahead,” David said, waving a hand towards the door. “I take a while and I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“That’s considerate,” Patrick observed, a bit surprised. “Well, take whichever side you want. I usually sleep there,” he said, gesturing to the side of the bed furthest from the door, where a book and a glass of water were sitting on the nightstand there. “But it doesn’t really matter to me. I shouldn’t be long. Make yourself at home.”

Patrick went over to the dresser, hastily grabbed a pair of boxer shorts and a clean white tee shirt, and then pulled his towel off the hanger on the back of the door before heading down the hallway to the bathroom.

David sat down on the bed, looking around at the situation he had gotten himself into. He glanced back longingly at the side of the bed furthest from the door, where Patrick’s things were situated on the nightstand. What was the likelihood that he would get murdered in this 2nd floor bedroom of Ray Butani’s house? And perhaps, most importantly, how much would Patrick tease him if David actually explained why he wanted to sleep on that side of the bed?

It wasn’t a choice he particularly wanted to make, and with things already as confusing and precarious as they were (what was Patrick’s deal, anyway??), he didn’t want to add to that by bringing up the whole side of the bed issue. He unpacked his pajamas, laying them out on the bed along with the many steps of his skin care routine, preparing to conduct his evening ritual in god-knows-what kind of bathroom. He supposed it couldn’t be worse than the motel bathrooms, which had not grown on him in his time in Schitt’s Creek. Patrick would surely have better linens than the scratchy things Stevie dared to call _towels._

Then again, based on the linens on Patrick’s bed, David didn’t have high hopes. If he didn’t bring much with him, that probably meant these were actually _Ray_ ’s linens, which, okay, the man wasn’t as much of a heathen as he thought. The pattern was awful, but the quality wasn’t the worst he’d ever seen. Probably got them from a Bed, Bath, and Beyond or Wal-Mart or something. They’d have to start carrying higher quality linens at the store as soon as he could track down an appropriate vendor.

In all his musings, David lost track of the time, and before he knew it, Patrick was knocking at the bedroom door after his shower. “Um, come in,” David beckoned, thankful that he hadn’t decided to change in the room after all. He would shower in the morning, as per usual, though he imagined Patrick would have less patience with his hair routine than Alexis did.

Patrick, on the other hand, had chosen to take a quick shower, and even though he was decent in a white tee shirt and a loose pair of boxer shorts, his hair and neck were still wet and the towel in his hand was soaked from drying off his body.

“I figured I’d let you get in there, and I’ll finish getting ready for bed in here,” Patrick offered, seeing the many products spread out on the bed but noting that there was no indication of which side David had chosen.

“Um, yeah, okay. Thanks,” David said, awkwardly gathering up the many products in his hands, using his pajamas as an apron to carry them to the bathroom. “Sorry, I’ll probably be a bit, if that’s okay.”

“No problem,” Patrick said accommodatingly. “But fair warning, Ray didn’t invest in a great water heater, so after about ten minutes it kind of stops being hot.”

“Oh, I’m not going to shower tonight,” David said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” Patrick said, clearly not understanding what would possibly keep David in the bathroom for a long time, if that was the case.

“Yeah, I have to shower in the morning or my hair becomes impossible,” David explained at the look of confusion on Patrick’s face, though he was standing awkwardly near the door with his hands full. “Tonight is just skincare.”

Patrick grinned and muttered his understanding before nodding. “Down the hallway, to your left. I left the light on and the door open so you wouldn’t have to go searching. Have fun,” he said, a bit sarcastically, turning away from David to continue towel-drying his short hair.

David fled out the door with a wince. He was high maintenance, he knew that. People had told him time and time again that he was “too much,” too big, too loud, too persnickety. But twenty years from now, when the fine lines and age spots had begun to afflict all his detractors, David would have the last laugh.

David found the bathroom easily enough, a small, outdated room with a pedestal sink and tub shower, the chrome hardware aged and slightly scaled with some sort of grime around the edges where the grout was discolored, though it was still in better shape than the motel’s. He placed as many products as could fit on the tank of the toilet, where a set of matches and a roll of toilet paper took up most of the free-space. It wasn’t dusty, at least. He wondered vaguely if Patrick and Ray shared the cleaning chores for the house or if this was Patrick’s bathroom and Ray his own in the master bedroom. He supposed not, and hoped that meant he wouldn’t run into a half-naked (or, god forbid, fully naked) Ray at any point between now and when he left tomorrow morning.

He started his first step, turning on the water and waiting for it to heat to the right temperature for his first facial cleanse, looking in the mirror back at himself, which was still a bit fogged up from Patrick’s steamy shower.

The towels were indeed better than the motel’s: an off-white sort of terrycloth that wasn’t terrible quality. Patrick had left a full set out for him on top of the toilet lid, and David grabbed the washcloth off the top and caught some of the water dripping from his now superficially-clean face. His mind wandered again as he started to wash with his exfoliating cleanser, his thoughts turning to how Patrick had looked in that white tee shirt. The way it exposed the muscles of his upper arms, how it clung to his chest. David loved the glimpses he got of Patrick’s forearms when his button-down sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, but this was his first sight of upper arms. And damn, Patrick had arms for days.

Dabbing his face dry with the terrycloth, David splashed some witch hazel and tee tree toner on his face, staring at himself in the now-clear mirror. Thank god he hadn’t been planning to wear a mask to bed tonight. He didn’t want Patrick to see him like that.

As he unscrewed the first of his serums, David’s thoughts drifted down past Patrick’s arms to the boxer shorts the man had walked in wearing. They were unremarkable, pale blue striped, the kind that came in a multi-pack. It was a little alarming to see him in anything but mid-range denim, the kind that had barely any semblance of “fit” and was cut to suit pretty much anyone. But instead, David had gotten to see Patrick’s bare legs. His bare feet, as pale as the rest of him, his strong calves—which was unsurprising, since David knew how often he hiked. Those switchbacks were indiscriminate. His knobby knees, which for some reason David couldn’t get out of his mind.

He spread the light hyaluronic acid serum over his t-zone, the chemicals sinking into David’s skin as his mind continued to wander.

His mental gaze continued back upwards, and David’s mind’s eye was suddenly impossibly fixated on Patrick’s thighs. The way the loose boxer shorts hit his thighs, the thick muscles there that were, without a doubt, biteable and suckable, and good lord, so fuckable. David wanted to bury himself in those thighs, to lick them and leave hickeys there, to come all over them. The thoughts came unbidden to him as the serum dried on his face. He was hard now, entirely, his cock having grown heavier and heavier with each thought of Patrick. Patrick’s naked body, Patrick’s skin wet with water falling over it in the shower. Patrick washing himself, running his hands over his body to clean his cock, his ass, his chest, oh god those legs. It was too late now. David was so hard he was going to have to take care of this if he wanted to be able to go back in and _sleep_ next to Patrick without jumping him.

And of course, he couldn’t jump him. Patrick—sweet, buttoned-up Patrick—was his business partner. He could not just jump his business partner. This wasn’t New York or Toronto. This was not a random guy he could never see again. This was a small town and a person he had to be around for the foreseeable future.

Fuck. Okay. David refocused on his skincare, hoping maybe it would go down on its own. He didn’t really want to have to jack himself off in Ray Butani’s bathroom, anyway.

He applied his second serum, this time to his whole face, and tried to keep his mind from Patrick as he waited for it to dry. He pulled out his phone instead, hoping to distract himself in the meantime.

**David Rose**

Fuck you

**Stevie Budd**

What? Not having fun?

**David Rose**

Patrick lives with Ray

I’m sharing a bed with him

**Stevie Budd**

I’m sure Ray’s a generous lover

**David Rose**

This isn’t funny

**Stevie Budd**

Yes it is

You’re welcome

**David Rose**

This is not a thing I will ever be thanking you for.

This is bad. Very bad. I need to figure out what to do

**Stevie Budd**

What, are you hiding out in the bathroom?

**David Rose**

As a matter of fact

**Stevie Budd**

No fucking way

**David Rose**

You know how long my skincare routine takes

**Stevie Budd**

Okay, truth-telling moment here

Patrick likes you

Patrick likes you likes you

**David Rose**

No way, no he does not

Patrick Brewer is straight, I am 87% sure

**Stevie Budd**

And I am 100% sure he is not

**David Rose**

What makes you think that?

**Stevie Budd**

I KNOW that because I have seen the

way you two interact, and he is definitely into you.

In a not platonic way

**David Rose**

I don’t believe you

**Stevie Budd**

Fine, you don’t have to

But my advice?

Take your 13% chance that he’s not straight

Because. He isn’t

**David Rose**

And how do you propose I do that, exactly???

**Stevie Budd**

I don’t know.

I did my part, got you into his bed

You’ll figure something out

**David Rose**

Fine

Best Wishes

**Stevie Budd**

My warmest regards to you both

**David Rose**

UGH FUCK OFF

**Stevie Budd**

Mmhmm we’ll see

David put his phone back down angrily. Stevie was no help. It had just made things worse. Now David was hard, and hopeful, and he was behind in his skincare routine. He was taking way too long. He grabbed his spot treatment, applied it a little haphazardly, and then reached immediately for his face milk. He didn’t know how long he had spent texting Stevie but the longer he spent in here, the more panicked he was getting.

He hastily applied the face milk, recapping the jar and reaching for his eye crème, applying that under his eyes quickly. He was still hard.

Deciding there was nothing to do but deal with it, David pulled his shirt off and carefully folded it, pulling off his plain undershirt as well. He grabbed the shirt he had brought with him, suddenly regretting his choice of his short-sleeved white shirt that read DON’T in bold black letters across the front. The more fabric covering him up, the less exposed he would feel. At least he had the sense to pack his black sleep pants, soft joggers that were thick and comfortable and might hide any reactions his body could have. It was probably wishful thinking, though.

David pulled off his pants, folding them and setting them, along with his shirt and sweater, on top of the towel stack. Left only in his black boxer briefs, David suddenly realized he didn’t have any lube with him (in the bathroom, that is. Of course he had some in his bag, for emergencies). If he was going to _take care of this problem_ , he was going to have to either do it dry (ugh, no, he wasn’t that desperate), or with one of his _very expensive_ and not really meant for lubricating facial care products (not ideal, but, an option).

And then he thought maybe, just maybe, Patrick or Ray might have something in the bathroom that was at least better those other options. He was a little afraid of what he might find, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. David opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror hesitantly, and was unsurprised to find a few pill bottles—nothing excited, he noted, some floss and mouthwash, some bandages and other first-aid type items, shaving accoutrements, and two different brands of deodorant.

Nothing.

Well, he tried. At the last second, David thought to look inside the shower, hopeful that maybe Patrick had listened to him and brought home some of their good shower products. One of which—yes! Patrick had bought the nice conditioner he had recommended from the store. It was not ideal, but it would work better than anything else he had at his disposal right now.

He ran the faucet, which, okay, bad to waste water. But there was no way he was going to let Patrick or GOD FORBID Ray Butani overhear him jerking himself off. Nope. No. He would waste some water to prevent that catastrophe.

He pulled off his boxer briefs, unwilling to get come or conditioner on them. He sat them down on top of his undershirt, reaching into the shower again and pumping a few spurts of conditioner into his hand. The conditioner was slick and cool in his palm, and his hot cock was aching for release. The shock of the temperature difference, the pressure of his own hand on his dick, it was a lot. David allowed himself to think once again of Patrick’s bitable thighs, that pale skin dotted with light brown hairs, barely visible unlike David’s own dark, thick tufts.

He wondered what Patrick’s hair looked like around his cock, if it was thick and musky there or if he was as pale and hairless as everywhere else. David wanted touch him there, to taste him, to take in his scent and the weight of his cock in his hand—on his tongue. This was good, David’s cock was getting closer faster than he might usually.

He was more turned on than he had thought, and the idea of Patrick in his bedroom waiting, waiting for David to join him there—it was a lot. It was an image he didn’t expect would affect him this much. He had lost himself in his vision of Patrick, his thoughts of his new business partner and his body and that voice, that cocky, self-assured voice that was calm when he needed it to be and sassy when he wanted to be.

And as much as David imagined touching Patrick, he also tried to pretend his own hand on his cock was Patrick’s, that is was Patrick’s strong hand working him over. Patrick’s forearm muscles clenching as he moved his hand back and forth, squeezing and stroking in just the way David liked. David ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, seeking the pre-come there as additional lubricant. God, he was dripping. He was so close.

He wanted to come, not just so he could go back in that room with Patrick and not fucking explode, but he was so fucking needy. He wanted Patrick, he admitted it, wanted desperately for this to be real, for it to be Patrick’s hand on him instead of his own. He hoped to God Stevie was right. David hadn’t wanted anyone like this in a long while. He had forgotten what it was like to want someone this much. Especially someone he was pretty sure didn’t want him back.

David stroked himself hard a few more times, desperate to come, and finally, finally, release found him. He came all over his other hand, stroking himself through it, his gasping breaths inaudible over the rush of the faucet. He tried to still himself, to stifle the groan that wanted out of him from deep in his chest. Certain he wasn’t going to drip everywhere, David reached his come-filled hand into the rushing water, rinsing first before pumping hand soap and returning both hands under water to clean the smell of sex from his filthy hands. That accomplished, he wet part of the hand towel and wiped the remaining conditioner off his cock. At least now he would be able to vouch for its lubricating properties from personal experience.

David hung the towels on the back of the bathroom door on the farthest rung, taking care to put the hand towel underneath his unused bath towel, and then folded the washcloth on top so it could be easily identified as his. He sighed, tired now, but relieved, and put on the clean pair of boxer briefs and sleep pants he had brought with him. He tried to re-arrange his skincare products on the toilet tank so he could leave them there overnight, and finally got them to a place where he didn’t have to worry Ray would accidentally knock them off if he got up in the middle of the night.

Grabbing today’s clothes, David worked his way back to Patrick’s bedroom, remembering to knock lightly at the door as Patrick had also done. “Come in,” he heard from inside.

Patrick was looking up from his book with a smile, though he wasn’t in bed as David had expected. “How did you know it was me?” he asked.

“Ray doesn’t knock,” Patrick said, grimacing.

“Ah,” David replied. “That’s…unfortunate.”

“Yes,” Patrick smiled painfully. “It is, occasionally. But Ray is thankfully hard to embarrass.”

“Is that a good thing?” David asked, not sure he would be so worried about Ray’s welfare were he in the same situation.

“Well, it just means he’s seen a lot more of me than I was expecting for my employer slash landlord.”

David let out a laugh, wincing as he packed today’s clothes neatly into his bag. He turned back to Patrick, unsure what to do next. “You didn’t get in bed,” he observed, noting that the book Patrick had in his hands was the one on the nightstand he had gestured to when he had indicated his usual side of the bed earlier.

“Yeah, because I wanted to make sure you got the side of the bed you wanted,” Patrick replied easily, as though being that considerate was totally normal for him.

“Oh,” David said, not sure how to respond to that. He had sort of been hoping Patrick would just make that decision for them both. “I can sleep on this side,” David offered, pulling back the covers on the other side of the bed, the one closer to the door.

“Are you sure?” Patrick asked. “I sort of feel like I blindsided you here, so I can at least give you first pick.”

“Um…” David hesitated. “I usually like to sleep furthest from the door, but—”

“Okay,” Patrick agreed, smiling back at him. “No problem.” He moved around the bed to the side where David stood, setting his book down on the nightstand on that side. “Really, David, it’s fine,” he insisted, touching David’s bare arm to gesture he move to the other side.

The touch sent a shiver through David’s body, right down to his dick, which, thank goodness for his refractory period, was not going to get hard again anytime soon. Patrick’s easy touch was so unusual for David’s whose movements with his hands were generous with the air and reticent when it came to touching others.

“It’s probably better this way, anyway,” Patrick continued. “I can protect you from Ray if he has one of his sleepwalking episodes tonight and ends up in here.”

David met his eyes, panicking. “Kidding, David,” Patrick said. “I promise. Ray does definitely barge in without knocking, but not usually in the middle of the night.”

“Mmk,” David took this in begrudgingly.

“I promise to protect you from any would-be murderers,” Patrick offered, hitting on the very thing David had said when he and Alexis were first choosing beds in their motel room. David’s eyebrow raised, because there was no way that Patrick could know that. Not even Stevie knew that story and could troll him by telling Patrick that, and unless Alexis had gone running her mouth… no, probably not.

“Thank you,” David decided on, finally, moving his bag to his new side of the bed and pulling the comforter down a bit. He took each of the rings off his right hand and dropped them gently onto the nightstand, making sure they were unlikely to roll off. “Er, are you ready for bed, or did you want to read some more?”

“I’m ready,” Patrick replied, mimicking David’s own actions on his side of the bed. He then went to the door, made sure it was firmly shut, and flipped off the main lights witch before he returned to the bedside.

It was more awkward than David had feared, climbing into bed with this man. He had climbed into bed with people he had known less, with strangers, but in those cases the lack of knowledge about who they were was balanced by the certain knowledge of what was about to happen. In this case, David had no such assurances.

David’s body was much larger than Patrick’s, and he tried make himself take up less room. Though it was a queen-sized bed, he wanted to avoid them touching and making things even more awkward. Patrick seemed to note the tension between them, although he appeared more comfortable simply because this was his room, his bed. Wrong side, but still.

David adjusted the pillow behind his head and arranged himself until he was comfortably laying on his back, hands gripping the comforter across his chest where the very top of the word “DON’T” was just visible. Patrick was still seated, not yet lying down, as David situated himself, until he broke the silence by asking, “Okay to turn out the light?” His hand hovered near the lightbulb on his bedside lamp, the only light left in the room casting shadows of the various tchotchkes. It really was like an 80s horror movie.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” David agreed, although he was concerned about what might change when the lights went out. Patrick turned the switch and the dim yellowish light blinked out with a mechanical click.

David lay there staring at the ceiling as Patrick situated himself in bed, arranging the pillow the way he liked, moving the top sheet and comforter to a comfortable position across his own chest. When the movements quieted and Patrick was settled, only the sounds of their combined breathing filled the darkness.

He wasn’t going to get any sleep until this tension drained out of him, until the awkward silence was broken, so David spoke quietly into the air, hoping that saying something, anything might diffuse it. “When we first moved here, Roland put my parents, Alexis, and I into adjoining rooms at the motel. Alexis and I fought over who could have the bed farthest away from the door, because neither of us wanted to be murdered first.”

Patrick took this in for a moment and then chuckled quietly. “So, it wasn’t about not being murdered, just who would get it first?” he confirmed.

“Well, I figured the one farthest from the door would have the best chance of survival, you know, like the whole, ‘you don’t have to outrun a bear, you just have to outrun the other person’ thing,” David explained. “And later that week Roland actually had Stevie take our doors off their hinges, so wanting there to be someone sleeping between me and the vagrants and wild animals of Schitt’s Creek was a very real concern.”

“I don’t think we have that many vagrants” Patrick observed. “And as far as I know, wild animals don’t make many appearances here either. But good to know you have a plan if we come across any bears.”

“Oh come on, you’re telling me you wouldn’t be scared to death to sleep in a motel in the middle of nowhere near people who seem to have it out for you _without a door_?”

“Well, I go camping a lot, and a nylon tent is less protection than a door, so I guess I’d probably be okay.”

David scoffed and turned his head toward Patrick. “I used to have my own wing of our house. I used to have a personal security detail. Now I can’t even reliably count on a piece of wood to protect me while I sleep.”

“I told you, David,” Patrick said, the joking tone returning to his voice. “I’ll protect you.”

“Yes, well, I don’t know what kind of sleeper you are. How do I know you won’t sleep through an attempt on my life?”

“Well, I’m actually a very light sleeper,” Patrick assured him, “And an early riser. And, to be honest, the only danger you’re in here is Ray wanting to ask how to take your eggs for breakfast.”

“Oh,” David replied quietly, as if he didn’t know how to respond to that. “Well, that entirely depends on what I’m having with the eggs,” he finally explained.

“I’ll be sure Ray wakes you for your breakfast order, then,” Patrick joked.

“Normally, I’d say I’m not much of a morning person,” David said, “But food is always the exception. Well, food and sex.”

The words came unbidden out of David’s mouth, and he was so thankful it was dark so Patrick could not see the horrified look on his face following this admission. It was silent, as though neither of them knew how to follow up that revelation.

“Sex is a good reason to make an exception,” Patrick agreed quietly, after a few painfully silent moments.

“Yeah,” David agreed, nervously twiddling his thumbs. “Speaking of which, I kind of feel like I still don’t really know much about you,” David admitted. “Are you seeing anyone, at the moment?” he asked, hoping the desire didn’t come through in his voice. If they were not laying in a pitch-black room, David would never have been able to bring himself to ask outright like that. In the dark of the night, things were different.

“Um, no. I ended a long-term relationship a few months ago, and moved here to Schitt’s Creek to start fresh, so…” Patrick trailed off, and David noted that he avoided using any helpful pronouns.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” David said, aiming his tone towards conciliatory, though he was very thankful to have any new information at all. But now he wanted more. “That must have been really bad if you felt like you needed to move to a place called Schitt’s Creek to get away from it.”

Patrick lay there quietly, thoughtful as he considered how to respond to David’s leading question. “Yeah, um, it was. My ex-fiancée, Rachel, and I have always had the tendency to get back together after a breakup. We’d been on and off since high school. And this time, I really needed to make sure the breakup stuck.”

“Oh, wow, that’s a long relationship,” David observed, thinking of his own three-month relationship breaking point. It wasn’t like he’d deliberately broken up with anyone who made it that far, he’d just never been able to keep anyone around longer than that.

“Long, but not good,” Patrick admitted. “The problem with being with someone since high school is that people are rarely the same a decade or so later that they were as teenagers, you know? When you’re in high school, you don’t necessarily know who you are yet.”

“Oh my god, so true. You don’t want to know what I was like in high school. It wasn’t pretty.” That got a laugh out of Patrick, which David could tell he sorely needed. After the bed stopped gently shaking from the force of his laughter, David could feel the grief rolling off of Patrick from next to him.

“Yeah, so if the person you’re with isn’t compatible with who you figure yourself out to be finally, it’s hard to break that off after so many years together.”

“I get that. So, was it you who changed? Or Rachel?” David asked. After a moment of silence, he backtracked. “Sorry, of course you don’t have to tell me anything. Forget I asked.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m the one who changed. I…” Patrick sighed, and was quiet for what felt like a full minute. “I finally figured out why it wasn’t working. Why it would never work. That I wasn’t attracted to her.”

“Oh, wow,” David said, internally shrieking with this revelation but also feeling somewhat sad for Patrick that coming to that realization involved all this heartbreak.

“Yeah, so I couldn’t let myself get back together with Rachel again. I love her, I do, but not like I’d want to love my spouse. And I knew if I let us actually get married, or if we had kids, I wouldn’t ever be able to let myself leave her.”

“And the only way you could stop yourself from doing that was packing up and moving away?” David asked in awe, and then realized what Patrick wasn’t saying. “Oh, you didn’t tell her why. You’re not, you’re still…”

“Yeah,” Patrick affirmed. In the closet, David meant. Not out.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that’s like,” David said, offering an olive branch in talking about himself, revealing some of himself for the moment instead of continuing to let Patrick bare his soul. “I just brought home a couple and made my parents deal with it,” he admitted, his tone light.

“A couple?” Patrick asked, abruptly shifting his body to face David, though of course in the darkness they couldn’t see each other. David was pretty sure the dark was the only thing allowing this conversation to happen. There was something freeing about not having to see someone in the light of day while they said such things.

“Um, yeah, I’m pansexual. So I brought home this gorgeous redhead and her even hotter boyfriend and we had a lovely time together. And that’s how I came out to my parents Although to be fair, I did really enjoy the metaphor Stevie and I came up with about it, so I would probably use that now if I had to explain to someone.”

“Wow,” Patrick said, the wonder coming through in his voice. “I’m kind of jealous.”

“Well, I’m always up for a good demonstrative coming out, so if you even need a guy on your arm to show rather than tell them, just let me know.”

“David, I moved two hundred miles away from everyone I know to avoid that exact thing.”

“I’m just saying, sometimes it’s easier to have someone just _see_ it rather than having to say the words to them.”

They were both quiet for a moment, and David imagined that Patrick was envisioning what it would be like to say those words to his parents, to Rachel, to his friends. Given that David knew next-to-nothing about where he came from or how he grew up, Patrick could just as well be the prodigal child for an evangelical community as anything else. He couldn’t always assume his big city ways would apply to everyone else.

“Yeah, I believe that,” Patrick finally agreed. It was quiet for a minute, and then he sighed, which David interpreted as him building up to say something else. “Would it be okay if I said the words to you, though, maybe to practice?”

At this, David turned over to face him as well. Now they were on their sides facing each other, inches away though the darkness made it seem much farther. “Of course, I’d be honored,” he replied earnestly. Not a scrape of sarcasm in his voice, David knew how big a moment like this was. How much it meant.

“Okay,” Patrick said, taking a deep breath. “I’m… gay.” He paused. “I’m not attracted to women. I only like men.”

“Thank you, Patrick,” David breathed out, this night turning out to be much different than he could ever have imagined. Even jerking himself off in the bathroom earlier felt like a world away from this moment. “Is that the first time you’ve said it aloud?”

Patrick nodded, and then realized David couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I spent a lot of hikes trying to figure out exactly what it was. I don’t even think when I broke it off with Rachel I could have put that specific word to it, though. It was like I couldn’t let myself realize it yet.”

“Oh,” David said, the breath of his exhale covering the distance between them. The question lay between them, the one he was afraid to ask. He didn’t know if he could be brave enough to say it aloud. But then, Patrick had just been so brave himself, and that made him bold. “What was it that finally made you figure it out?”

The silence between them lay heavy and tense, going on so long that David wasn’t sure Patrick was even still awake. He supposed Patrick could pretend to be sleeping now and avoid the rest of this conversation, and in the morning they could both go on as though nothing had changed, as though David didn’t have the knowledge he did now.

“Um,” Patrick’s voice finally broke through the silence. “Well. It was, you, actually.”

There it was.

“Me?” David asked, closing his eyes to remember this moment.

“Yeah, I uh… when I met you everything kind of just made sense. That I’m gay, and uh, attracted to…”

“Men,” David finished for him.

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed, laughing a little, perhaps out of nervousness. “But I was going to say, ‘you.’”

“Me?” David asked again, his voice lifting up abruptly in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, I don’t expect—”

“You like me?” David interrupted. “Like, you are attracted to me?”

“Um, yes?” Patrick answered, concern and embarrassment sneaking into his voice.

David started laughing. It was unexpected even to himself, and then he swore and felt Patrick shifting away from him. “No, no, wait. I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because I told Stevie she was wrong about this, and now I’m never going to live it down.”

“Great, so you and Stevie have been talking about me,” Patrick said.

“Yeah,” David confirmed, and then moved closer to Patrick, reaching his hand out for Patrick’s wrist. “But only because she knows me really well. And she could tell right away that I liked you, and has been teasing me mercifully about it for weeks.”

His grip on Patrick’s wrist lightened as soon as he felt the tension leave the other man’s body. He wasn’t going to try and flee.

“So, you, you’re saying—”

“Patrick?” David interrupted again.

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay if I kiss you now?” David asked, his hand running up Patrick’s bare arm, the darkness covering Patrick’s blush in response.

“Please,” he answered, and they moved together those last few inches so David could place a firm but gentle kiss on Patrick’s mouth…after nearly missing it entirely and landing one just to the side of his smile.

David would describe it as one of his top ten kisses, although it was much tamer than the rest of the list. Patrick’s mouth was soft and receptive, and their lips met askance in the darkness, finding their way to each other through touch alone.

David’s mouth parted, inviting Patrick to do the same, and he pulled away just slightly before returning for an open-mouthed kiss that Patrick responded to eagerly, the certainty of his movement much more self-assured after the first touch of David’s lips against his.

It seemed to go on forever though not long enough, and it was David who pulled away first, shocked by the racing beat of his heart and that fluttery feeling in his belly. He felt… more… so much more than he expected. This confident troll of a man, this straight-legged, mid-range denim clad business consultant—his eager and utterly competent business partner—unexpectedly aroused feelings in David’s heart, not just his dick.

The feeling seemed mutual, even though David couldn’t confirm it with a view of Patrick’s expression. But there in the darkness, in the space between them, David could feel that something special was here, though wouldn’t admit as much out loud. They both laughed a little and David could feel Patrick’s breathy exhale on his lips, their faces held so close together.

“Thank you,” Patrick breathed out, “For making that happen for us.”

“Well, luckily, I am a very generous person,” David joked, happy to lighten the mood again.

“Um, I realize this is maybe weird to say because we’re literally in bed together at the moment, but…” Patrick started, pulling back just a bit as though he needed some physical distance from David to be able to collect his thoughts. “But I, I’m going to need to take this kind of—slow. Because you’re my first, you know…” he broke off, a frustrated sigh following his exhale, then emitted a sharp gasp before he realized, “Oh, God, and that’s assuming you’re even—" interested, he didn’t say.

“Hey,” David says simply, cutting him off. “I am. And I get it. But I’m not exactly used to slow, whatever that might mean for you, so you’re going to have to… I’m going to need some guidelines.”

“Right, yeah,” Patrick muttered, and David had the sneaking suspicion Patrick was focusing on the first part of his response, the “not used to going slow” part. “You’re probably going to want—”

David cut him off, realizing where that train of though was going. “Patrick, I’m excited for slow. Going fast has never done me any favors in the past, so, you know, I’m happy to try something new.” He stroked a hand over Patrick’s bare forearm.

“Okay, great. Good. Would you like to go out with me, David? Like, on a date?”

David grinned into the darkness, not trying to suppress it at all. “I would love that.”

“Good. We can talk about that, um, tomorrow, I guess. So, do you, are you ready to go to sleep?” Patrick asked, clearly unsure how to segue from that _illuminating_ conversation.

“Um,” David vocalized, the awkward subject change grating on him as well. He didn’t really know how to respond to that question anyway. He would love to stay up and kiss Patrick some more, or talk. He _did_ also need his beauty sleep, and it wasn’t often he got rest away from Alexis’s snoring or incessant phone notifications. But he probably wasn’t going to sleep well tonight anyway, knowing Patrick was mere inches away from him, under the same comforter and sheets. Plus the prospect of Ray bursting in at any moment wasn’t exactly encouraging him towards sleep.

“Because, I wouldn’t mind… if you wanted to…” Patrick took a breath, and then his intentions were clearer, as he leaned over to kiss David. Well, that was encouraging, if babygay Patrick was able to take the initiative like this, to kiss him and not just be kissed by him.

David let himself enjoy the kiss, the nervous then eager press of Patrick’s mouth against his, but was honestly more attentive to Patrick’s hand as it roamed his clothed shoulder, up to the hair at the nape of his neck, his ear. Patrick’s roving hand was hard to ignore, and he kept himself still to avoid inadvertently responding more earnestly than Patrick was ready for. He kissed Patrick back, running his own fingers over Patrick’s upper arm, allowing himself to stroke at the hem of his sleeve and the skin just beneath it.

Patrick let out a little breathy moan, then rested his face against David’s shoulder as David’s mouth moved from his lips to his neck. After a few more moments of this rising intensity, Patrick finally pulled away. “Okay, so, we should stop before I…”

David’s mouth stopped immediately, his fingers freezing against Patrick’s bicep, which was hard beneath the skin of his arm. And this wasn’t even Patrick’s throwing arm. “Before you…?” David trailed off, not sure what Patrick was going to end that sentence with.

Patrick made a face against David’s shoulder, and though he couldn’t make out the change in his expression, David’s own arousal could help him guess. “Yeah, you’re right. You said slow, so we should… we should just go to bed.”

Patrick nodded against him before pulling away to resituate himself on the other side of the bed. David was thankful at this moment that Patrick had wanted slow, because otherwise he was going to have to deal with a very unexpected erection. The whole point of him jerking off in the bathroom earlier was for this _not_ to happen. So much for that.

It was really different, kissing someone and grinding all over them and then just… stopping, and going to sleep next to one another. To be so in the midst of it with someone, striving towards that feeling together, only to stop short on purpose—it went against everything David knew from his own experiences.

David was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep.

Really, it might have been easier to just commit to it, and spend the time mentally processing everything that just happened. That way, at least, he could “wake up” in the morning with a fresh perspective on everything, benefiting from several more hours considering it than Patrick would have. He could get on top of the situation, figure out his play, take in everything they had said and done and maybe tone down that impossibly bright feeling at the heart of him.

But he didn’t commit. He lay there, like a fool, with his eyes closed trying to sleep and his brain flashing toward the opposition direction. His every thought overanalyzed the situation. David could hear every infinitesimal swish of his skin against the bedsheets as either one of them moved slightly. He could hear the breathing of the man next to him, but having no idea as to whether Patrick snored made it very difficult to ascertain whether his breathing patterns were shifting as he fell asleep.

David could feel Patrick beside him. Though they were inches apart, sure to not be touching, David could sense him there, sense their skin calling out to one another, the hairs on their forearms extended to close the gap between them by millimeters.

He was never going to fall asleep.

~

When David awoke, he became conscious of his position in relation to Patrick by slow degrees.

The warmth of a body up against him suffused his form with heat, a low fire spreading deliciously from his lower back throughout his chest and limbs.

The body, he could tell, was holding on to him. A pale, nearly hairless arm gripped him surely around his waist, hand splayed across his abdomen, bare fingers touching his skin to hold their bodies against one another.

He was, in fact, the little spoon, and the body behind him was Patrick. Well, he assumed so, anyway, given that even his bleary eyes could see that he was in Patrick’s bed in Ray’s house. So, he _hoped_ it was Patrick.

The thing about spooning is that when you’re doing it right, bodies are snugly nested together, and the part of Patrick’s body that was nestled again David’s back was… well, even in his sleep, Patrick seemed to want him, so that was a good sign.

He ground back against Patrick a little, almost involuntarily, and Patrick was clearly immediately awake behind him. David grabbed the hand that was wrapped around him, feeling Patrick start to try and pull away.

“No, wait,” David whispered, and then turned himself over so that he was facing Patrick, whose face was red and bleary with sleepy arousal.

“Good morning,” Patrick said. “I hope you slept alright.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve shared a bed with someone all night,” David admitted, “But yeah, I actually did.”

Patrick had that look in his eyes, that dreamy fond look that David had told himself was just his business partner’s face. But truthfully, it was a look that Patrick only ever gave _him._

David leaned in, wrapping his own hand around Patrick’s waist. Patrick’s eyes were wide in the morning light as David leaned in to kiss him, lingering near his mouth as he whispered, “Hi.”

They started to kiss a little more fervently, reaffirming all the things they said in the darkness next to each other last night. Now, in the light of day, neither of them is backing away or walking back their admissions. Suddenly from the hallway, Ray loudly announced “Knock, Knock” and opened the bedroom door without waiting for a response.

They both froze, unsure whether to frantically pull apart and pretend like nothing was happening or lean into it and not move a muscle. The silence only lasted a moment as Ray took in the scene in front of him. “Oh my,” Ray exclaimed. “I didn’t realize it was _that kind_ of sleepover, Patrick. Please accept my warmest congratulations. Now, I am making breakfast and wanted to know if you’d like some.”

Ray clearly had no sense of boundaries, or he would have embarrassingly excused himself the moment he walked in on them. Or rather, he wouldn’t have walked in on them in the first place. He really needed to help Patrick find an apartment if they were going to actually do this. Which, it did seem like they were.

“Umm, Ray, remember how we talked about knocking?” Patrick answered.

“I said ‘knock, knock,’” Ray replied, seemingly confused at what he had done wrong.

Patrick sighed, looked over at David as if to say _I did warn you_ , and answered. “Breakfast sounds great, Ray.”

“Wonderful. I assume you’ll take your eggs scrambled as usual, Patrick. David, how do you take yours?”'

David was horrified to be addressed in such a compromising position, but he supposed if Ray could be so casual, then perhaps he could too. Oh, who was he kidding. “Umm, what else are you making with the eggs?” he asked. His egg preferences really did depend on the rest of the meal.

“Well, I was hoping to whip up some pancakes and bacon as well, but if you’d prefer something else…”

“No, thanks, that sounds great. Um, scrambled is fine for me too,” David answered.

“Excellent. Door open or door closed?” he asked, as though the answer to that question wasn’t perfectly obvious to any rational boundary-observing human being.

“Door closed, please, Ray,” Patrick replied patiently. This was clearly a conversation they had already had multiple times, from the way Patrick was managing his response.

“Of course,” Ray said, closing the door as he left, humming and walking down the stairs to prepare breakfast for all of them.

“Oh my God,” David exclaimed as soon as the door was shut. “I thought you were joking.”

“Really wasn’t. Sorry, I hoped he wouldn’t do that today, but apparently the universe is out to get me.”

David took in the disheveled look of his business partner slash new romantic interest. “I’m going to go take a shower and leave you to deal with _that_ ,” he said pointedly.

“Kind of wishing I hadn’t showered last night now,” Patrick admitted, and David wondered if he had jerked off in the bathroom last night just as David had.

“Do you need the bathroom first?” David asked, trying to be considerate, though the look on his face surely betrayed his real feelings on the subject. “I’m going to be a while.”

“No, it’s fine. Although, you might want to save if for after breakfast, or your eggs will get cold,” he warned. David took few things as seriously as food and fashion.

“Ew. Cold eggs are incorrect,” David agreed with disdain. He let out a huff. “Fine, as long as you promise not to judge me on my pre-shower appearance this morning, I’ll wait until after breakfast.”

The look on Patrick’s face was not the face of a man who had mere hours ago come out. His eyes shouted just how much he was enjoying the sight of David. “Well, if you aren’t going to shower just yet, then we have a few minutes,” Patrick said, his words holding promise, mirroring the hungry look in his eyes. Patrick’s hand bravely reached for David’s hip, squeezing it and smiling.

“That’s not slow,” David teased, before he pulled Patrick closer and leaned in to kiss him, mingling the fingers on their free hands.

He owed Stevie bigtime.


End file.
